


Maintenance and Storage

by clarityhiding



Series: Earth and Alpf'ch'l [1]
Category: Batman (Comics), DCU, DCU (Comics), Red Hood and the Outlaws (Comics)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Dragons, Alternate Universe - Magic, Alternate Universe - Modern with Magic, Alternate Universe - Office, Alternate Universe - Urban Fantasy, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-03
Updated: 2020-02-03
Packaged: 2021-02-19 00:42:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,987
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22535785
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/clarityhiding/pseuds/clarityhiding
Summary: The Martha Wayne Foundation for Integration and Cooperation is a non-profit working on both sides of the Gate to help with the emigration, immigration, and integration of humans on the Alpf'ch'l side and magical beings on the Earth side. It's important work when it comes to building the bridges of interspecies cooperation.Jason is just the Maintenance guy.
Relationships: Tim Drake/Jason Todd
Series: Earth and Alpf'ch'l [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1707874
Comments: 52
Kudos: 418





	Maintenance and Storage

**Author's Note:**

> I was supposed to be brainstorming something else so I wrote this. Thanks to chibi_nightowl for the encouragement and beta. \o/

Jason is busy nursing the ancient coffee maker into lasting another week when he sees someone unfamiliar through the breakroom window and nearly melts the formica counter. "Uh. Who's that?" he asks since Stephanie is right here and she's basically HR anyway.

Steph glances over, only half paying attention. "New guy taking over Cissie's job now that the lawyers have beaten the Olympic committee into submission over whether she should be allowed to participate." She wrinkles her nose, shakes her head. "It's ridiculous that it took as long as it did for that to happen, seeing as how her abilities have zip to do with archery."

"Preaching to the choir," Jason says, more than a little distracted as his eyes continue to track the new arrival. On the other side of the glass, a potted plant bursts into flame. "Shit!"

Stephanie laughs and pats him on the shoulder. "You know, 'smoldering looks' really only work when the other person knows of your existence."

He shoves off her hand and glares. "Haha, very funny. I'll be sure to remind you of that the next time Kon comes looking for help with his timesheet and you melt into the woodwork."

She shoots him a dirty look. "I _was_ going to introduce you, but sounds like you want to do this all on your own," she snaps before flouncing off.

Dryads. They're always such drama queens.

* * *

In the end, Jason doesn't need an actual introduction since the new guy seeks him out before the end of the day.

A light knock on the open door frame draws Jason's attention away his book, and he has to quickly put it down before he accidentally sets it aflame. "Uh, hello? Can I help you with something?"

"Hi, yes, I think so? I mean, that is if you're Jason?" The man smiles, an easy thing that makes Jason's heart race. Up close, he's even more handsome, with the pink of his cheeks shining through a scattering of yellow scales that bleed into blue along his hairline. The blue scales are particularly striking shade that only serves to further complement already gorgeous eyes. "I'm Tim, the new accountant? Only, my predecessor apparently took her desk chair with her? I was told you're the man to see about getting a replacement."

"Oh, yeah. Cissie had some sort of special ergonomic thing she brought from home. I didn't realize we were getting her position filled so soon or there would already be a replacement there," Jason says, his ears burning, though he quickly flattens his hair down over them, dampening the flame.

"The way I hear it, no one expected it to happen this quickly. I just got really lucky and put in my paperwork for emigration a couple days before the position opened."

"You're newly arrived from Alpf'ch'l?" Jason asks as he gets to his feet. He's trying to keep his attention on the task at hand to; distraction usually does wonders when he's having trouble maintaining his less mundane abilities.

"Yeah, everything's pretty overwhelming. I mean, I knew things were done differently on this side of the Gate—my paperwork may've been rushed, but I had the same integration/culture classes as everyone else? Just didn't realize there'd be this much technology. There's a computer on my desk and I'm half afraid to turn it on." Tim laughs. When he raises an arm to rub the back of his neck, his sleeve slides down a bit, revealing a little frill of blue and yellow scales running along the back of his wrist.

Tim's shirt cuff starts to smoke and Jason gulps and quickly yanks his gaze away, striding over to the door at the back of what, for better or worse, is effectively his office. "You're an accountant, didn't you use a calculating machine on the other side? I know they aren't unknown over there."

"I usually do all my calculations and record-keeping my head? I'm very good at mental math and I've got a pretty good memory."

Trust Stephanie to find an accountant who doesn't have any computer experience. Still, it's not like they aren't used to it, considering the Foundation's practice of hiring new arrivals to help get them on their feet. "Lemme see what I can find in Storage for you," Jason says as he opens the door and flicks on the light inside. "Any special requests or requirements?" 

When he glances back over his shoulder, Tim is studying him, an odd look on his face.

"I wouldn't mind something with an open back?" Tim offers. "And maybe some of those little wheels on the bottom?"

"Rolling desk chairs are the standard," Jason assures him as he grabs the flashlight and shortsword he keeps next to entrance of Storage. The overhead lights aren't always the best when you get in too deep, and open flame isn't a smart light source considering some of the stuff stored away in there.

"They're so clever," Tim gushes. "Human ingenuity is amazing, isn't it?"

"We do alright sometimes," Jason acknowledges, ducking his head. "Open back desk chair, okay. I'll be back in maybe thirty minutes; whatever you do, _don't_ try to follow after me."

He steps through the door and lets Storage swallow him up.

* * *

It takes Jason closer to an hour to find a chair and bring it back, but in his defense he spent a good 15 minutes on Wikipedia, trying to suss out Tim's species. To locate a chair that will best suit him, of course, not because he's being a weird stalker or anything.

This is ridiculous, he doesn't even know if Tim is single, let alone romantically compatible with humans. Hell, he doesn't know _anything_ about Tim except that the guy is new in town and likely so overwhelmed by the transition from the other side of the Gate to Earth that he's in no shape to be doing anything other than settle in and figure out daily life. Jason's seen enough new arrivals during his years with the Foundation that he knows how it goes.

When he exits Storage, pushing the chair in front of him so he can close and lock the door that much sooner, he finds Tim in his chair, flipping through the book from his desk. He glances up when the pages start to smoke slightly, and Jason catches a fleeting glance of that fabulous smile before he quickly turns his attention away.

"You didn't have to wait. I would have brought the chair to you." If nothing else, Kaldur's desk is along the way and the increased humidity level would hopefully help snuff Jason's little problem.

"I don't mind. I have nothing better to do until someone from IT is free to walk me through basic computer stuff," Tim says. "That's a very interesting book. I figured humans would write stories about people from the other side since we do it too, but I didn't realize how inaccurate they'd be."

Considering Jason's currently in the middle of rereading _The Hobbit_ , it's likely a fair assessment, but he can't help his wince. "I've read some of the stuff that your lot's authors come up with about this side and it's just about as accurate as that."

"'My lot'? You're not from Alpf'ch'l?" Tim asks as he stands, falling into step beside Jason as he wheels the chair through the office.

"Born and raised over here, but did my grad work on the other side. The Foundation thought it would make me an ideal person to help new arrivals acclimatize to Earth."

"Which is why you're stuck in a back corner, overseeing a dusty old warehouse." To his credit, Tim sounds slightly offended on his behalf, which is both gratifying and embarrassing.

Jason tries to hide his embarrassment with a laugh, though he does leave a scorched footprint or two in the corridor's carpeting, which means more work for him later. "They forgot to take into consideration whether I had good people skills. I lasted less than a month as a transition counselor before enough complaints had me transferred to Maintenance and Storage. I don't mind, there aren't many jobs on this side of the Gate where I can wield a sword, and it was a graduation requirement at Alpf'ch'l University." 

Glancing up, he's surprised to see Tim wrinkle his nose.

"Ugh, I know. It took me a whole extra semester to finish up because of that, though I guess it gave me plenty of experience manipulating hands with five digits." Tim wiggles his fingers and rolls his eyes. "Like writing wasn't hard enough with misproportioned limbs."

Jason blinks, his eyes involuntarily following Tim's long fingers as they move. Somewhere behind Tim, a banshee lets out an inhuman shriek as the contents of a trash can catch on fire before he can redirect his attention. 

Shit. 

"You can take this from here, right?" Jason asks, pushing the chair towards Tim. "I just remembered I need to take care of something on the third floor." 

He hightails it out of there before Tim can respond.

* * *

No one on the third floor has any sympathy for him because the IT department is full of horrible, awful people that Jason is embarrassed to call his friends.

"I swear, if you don't stop laughing, you'll be taking care of this mouse problem on your own, Roy," Jason warns. He'd like to see the centaur climb under desks without any bipedal assistance.

"Sorry, just, I hear you actually managed to set a plant ablaze from thirty feet, which has to be some kind of record. I haven't heard of you having it this bad since the time that Amazon stopped by to help beef up Gate security."

Jason wiggles further back under the huge worktable Roy uses for a desk, determined to ignore him and focus on the task at hand. There, right behind a discarded take-out container—he's sure he saw a hint of whisker. He narrows his eyes and the container goes up in an impressive if small column of flame, accompanied by a horrendous shrieking noise. The fire immediately snuffs itself out and he crawls out from under the desk, taking the charred remains with him.

"Ugh, I'm going to have to drag the glue traps out of Storage," Jason grumbles once he has light to see what he's dealing with. "And I'm putting you in for a pygmy goat."

"Oh, hey, it's not that bad. Is it?" A hoof nudges the corpse, like that's going to make this anything other than what it is.

"All your trash has attracted dire rats. Either you improve your housekeeping habits or you get to explain to Babs why IT is turning into a barnyard."

"Was that a slur? I think that was a racial slur, I should report you to HR," Roy grumbles.

"Great, you can explain to her how you're a health hazard while you're at it," Jason counters, because Roy is crazy if he thinks Steph is going to take his side in this when dire rats are involved. "Why don't you head over to Accounting while I take care of this? I have it on good authority that there's techno-newb just aching to learn how to use one of these newfangled computational machines."

Roy narrows his eyes. "You are a horrible person and sometimes I hate you."

"Don't worry," Jason says as he readies himself to head back in. "There are definitely times when the feeling is mutual."

* * *

"It's not that I don't understand it can be hard for him to retrieve stuff when he kicks it under the desk, it's just that he doesn't even think to ask for help until things have gotten out of hand and I'm doing battle with magical rodents," Jason complains over lunch later.

Across the table, Bizarro makes a sad sound around the straw of his juice box before carefully setting it down. He's improved by leaps and bounds when it comes to controlling his strength since coming through the Gate. "Sorry."

"Aw, don't be. It's not your fault Roy's a slob sometimes. I'm just pissed we have to go find the glue traps. Pretty sure the shelf I left them on got claimed by that roving tribe of illegal redcaps last month, and they always try to stab your ankles when you want to get anything. It's really hard on your jeans."

"Mean," Bizarro laments. "Don't like them."

"I know, big guy. But you're the one with cyclopian durability and I'm the squishy human. It just makes sense for you to be the one to grab them. Anyway, you need to get used to navigating Storage on your own; I can't be holding your hand every time."

"Okay," Bizarro says, still sounding depressingly morose.

"Aw, don't be like that. Just think of how proud Artemis will be next time she stops by for a visit," Jason offers, naming the Amazon warrior who rescued Biz and Kon from an illegal lab and sponsored the cyclops-alien hybrids' immigration to Earth. "You know how much she likes to hear about how you're helping out around here."

"Red Her like when Bizarro help," Bizarro agrees.

"There you go. I'll even let you take the stabby stick," Jason offers gesturing to the sword hanging next to the entrance of Storage.

"Stabby stick!" Bizarro drops his mostly finished bologna sandwich and lopes across the room to admire his promised reward.

"You're really good with him," someone says, startling Jason so badly that he's already got a ball of flame in his hand as he turns.

He blinks and closes his hand, snuffing out the fire when he recognizes Tim. "I grew up around a bunch of other kids, it's not hard to figure out Biz when you've got that kind of experience to pull from."

"Younger siblings?"

"Something like that." Just because Jason likes the guy doesn't mean he feels like spilling his whole orphan sob story history. "Can I help you with something?"

"Oh! Oh, uh, yeah. The IT guy says I need a bunch of stuff if I want to use my workstation without injury?" Tim holds out a hastily scribbled list in Roy’s chicken-scratch.

With a glance, Jason's not surprised to see it's stuff like a monitor riser, tilted footrest, padded mousepad. Some of these things should still be in Cissie's old cubicle, but there's always a chance someone else swooped in and made off with them instead of coming to him with a request. For some reason a number of Jason's coworkers are leery about getting things from Storage. He has no idea why. It’s just Storage.

"I'll grab them for you when Biz gets back from doing battle with the redcaps," Jason offers. He hesitates over his next words, but decides it's up to him to say something, since clearly no one else has. "You know, you're in your rights to work in your natural form. It's against policy to require that anyone maintain a glamor or shifts that aren't necessary for survival. That's why we've got such a large tech department; a lot of people need custom keyboards and stuff built for them."

"I know, I read the handbook before taking the job. Part of my reason for coming here was to learn more about Earth society and technology, though, so I figure the best way for me to experience it is with a human form," Tim says, the smattering of yellow scales across his cheeks shifting color slightly and darkening to gold.

"Hate to break it to you, but humans don't generally have scales. Or frills."

"My shifting lessons may have been cut short when my application was accelerated," Tim admits. "That's why I wanted a chair with an open back; I sort of missed tail-absorption and had to muddle through it on my own. I'm not sure how well the shift will hold, and I don't want to break anything if it pops out at a bad time."

"You have access to some really good healers as part of the health plan," Jason offers. "If you break something, I'm sure you could get it fixed without any lingering effects."

"I meant the chair, but thanks," Tim says, his face lighting up for no apparent reason. "I appreciate the thought."

In Jason's hands, the requisition list starts to smoke, and he has to use the dregs of Bizarro's juice box to put it out before the entire thing goes up in flames. "There's a good chance Biz'll be in there for a while; the redcaps were in the middle of building fortifications last time I saw them," he offers. "You should go back to your station and familiarize yourself with using a computer. It won't hurt you to go a day or two without all this stuff."

"If you're sure," Tim says, looking a little uncertain for some reason.

"Positive," Jason says as he tries to wring out the paper without rendering the writing on it completely illegible. "There's nothing you can do here."

* * *

Somehow, Jason makes it through Tim's first week with only minimal property damage. It helps a lot that after the second potted plant goes up, he starts carrying a small fire extinguisher on his tool belt. Stephanie congratulates him on his foresightedness, but in all honesty he's pretty embarrassed by the whole thing—he hasn't had to resort to something like this since his teen years, when rampaging hormones nearly made his life a literal living hell. Thank goodness for the Martha Wayne Foundation for Integration and Cooperation; if their representative hadn't realized the reason behind the constant blazes that followed him around and helped him get it under control, he doesn't doubt he'd be in prison on multiple arson charges.

"I hear you've got your eye on the new accountant," Dick says when he swings by Maintenance and Storage on Friday to see if Jason wants to join him and Roy for drinks. Only Dick would manage to find a bar willing to admit a teetotaler centaur.

"Roy needs to keep his big mouth shut," Jason counters, because he does _not_ need to have his social life judged by the Foundation's star success story.

"Heard it from Stephanie, actually. You know, it's fine to have a crush, Jason. No one's going to judge you for that. Your 'smoldering looks,' on the other hand…"

Jason groans loud enough that Bizarro detours in from his path to the door to come over and pat him on the shoulder. "Red Him sad? No cry, Bizarro am here."

"I'm not sad, Biz, just a little frustrated. You better hurry up if you don't want to keep Kon waiting," Jason reassures him, because upsetting Bizarro is always the last thing he wants to do. Poor guy and his brother already have a hard enough time, not fitting in among humans because of their alienness and shunned by other cyclopses because of alien genes that gave them both two eyes.

"Flappy Him no make Red Him cry," Bizarro admonishes Dick before picking up his lunchbox and leaving.

"Still not sure why you're 'Red Him,'" Dick comments.

"Was wearing a red shirt when he first showed up," Jason says.

"Huh. Weird thing to latch onto. Anyway, you sure you don't want to tag along with me and Roy? Drown your troubles, maybe get some advice on winning over the fair number cruncher?"

"Yeah, I don't think so, _Flappy_ ," Jason says, shoving him towards the door, though the sylph stubbornly refuses to budge. For someone mostly made of air, he can be hard to move sometimes. "I can do without the kind of romantic advice you dispense. Thanks to you, Kon is _still_ too nervous to say anything to Steph and we all have to suffer."

"I don't know why. I gave him sound advice."

"Dick, you told the man to give cut flowers to a _dryad_. You might as well have told him to give her a dead bunny. You are _awful_ at this kind of thing."

* * *

A month after Tim starts working at the Foundation, Jason is doing much better. He hasn't unintentionally set anything on fire in over a week, himself included. Of course, a lot of that is probably due to the fact that he's been spending the majority of that time in Storage with Bizarro as they try to root out the redcap infestation, but at this point, he'll take what he can get.

"Right. I think the rat traps should catch the last of them," Jason says, limping out of Storage after almost six straight days of grueling and barbaric battle. "Good call, asking Raven to charm them for us." He'll definitely be thanking her for that later, and not just because he has a few busted ribs he'd love for her to heal.

"Nice lady," Bizarro agrees, poking a finger through one of the many holes in his overalls. He's functionally invulnerable, but his clothes? Not so much. "Nice Lady say me am good boy."

"Well, she's right. You're a very good boy." He opens his mouth to say something more, when someone else speaks up.

" _There_ you are. I was about to come in after you," Tim says, looking a little frantic. "No one's seen hide nor hair of you in over a month. HR said she'd give it another week before declaring you dead, but that was pushing it."

Huh. A month? Really? "Sometimes there's a weird time dilation effect with Storage," Jason offers. "It's been less than a week for me and Biz. And Stephanie was pulling your leg—she knows this happens sometimes with Storage. One time I got stuck in there for half a year when the staplers led a revolution amongst the office supplies; when I finally made it out, turned out only an hour had passed on this side. She doesn't like it when this kind of thing happens because it does funky things with payroll."

"Oh. Well. You might _tell_ people when you're going to pull something like this," Tim grumbles, the yellow scales on his cheeks turning a pretty gold and becoming more prominent against the pale skin of his shift.

Behind him, Bizarro gives Jason a shove that's much too hard, then follows it up with a dopey smile and thumbs up. Ugh, it was too much to hope that his only friend around here might stay on his side during this whole thing. "Me am go see Kon. Say sorry me worry him," Bizarro announces loudly, pushing past them both and closing the door to Maintenance behind him.

Limping over to his chair, Jason sits down with a wince. "If you need something, I'm going to make an executive decision and say it can wait for tomorrow. I need at least a full night's sleep before I head back in there again." He's so tired that for once he can't even manage even the smallest spark over Tim's presence. The six-inch gash in his leg isn't helping matters much either.

"You—!" Tim huffs, stamping his foot. "I can't believe you! You're missing for long enough I thought you were _dead_ and now you're finally back and you think the only reason I'm here is because I _want_ something? Jason, I've dealt with a lot of frustrating, backwards behavior since coming through the Gate, but you are by far the absolute worst out of them all!" Still huffing, he stomps out of the room.

Jason's pretty sure he's just really stuck his foot in it, but he's honestly too tired to give it much thought. Sleep. A good night's sleep, perhaps a full weekend to relax, and then maybe he'll be together enough to manage the complexities of office politics again.

* * *

Monday rolls around and it takes everything Jason has to drag himself out of bed and all the way to work. Now that he's no longer running on fumes and adrenaline, it's pretty obvious that he ruined any chance he might have had with Tim. Not that he thought he _had_ any chance—generally, people don't look favorably on flirtation by way of frequent spontaneous combustion, after all.

"Yes, I stopped by Medical and had Raven take care of me before I went home on Friday," Jason says as he pushes through the door to Maintenance almost thirty minutes late. "No, you don't need to beg your aunt for extra pies to feed me up again."

"That's good, since I don't have any aunts," Tim says, because that's who's waiting for Jason instead of Bizarro. "Hi. I hope you don't mind, but I asked Bizarro to set some traps around Accounting. Pretty sure IT's rats managed to spread to the entire building while you both were gone."

"Oh." Jason stares at him, then quickly glances away when Tim's shirtfront starts to smoke. "Uh. Sorry about last week?"

"I'm the one who should apologize. I sort of jumped on you out of nowhere when you clearly had a difficult battle."

"Eh. Less battle, more pest control," Jason mumbles, the tips of his ears catching light before he can stop them. "Sorry."

Tim laughs and shakes his head. "I really don't mind. I missed this while you were gone."

"You missed stuff randomly bursting into flame at inconvenient times?" Jason asks as he tries to pat out the fire. "Sorry, but most people aren't too keen on that kind of thing." 

"I find it relaxing, actually. Probably the thing that helped me settle in the most when I first came over," Tim insists, reaching over to gently tug Jason's hands away from his ears. "I grew up on the slopes of an active volcano. Things used to burst into fire all the time just from the heat. It feels weird to be somewhere that's not like that. Plus, it's nice to find someone like me already here. I didn't think any other dragons had come over yet."

A dragon…? Well, that certainly explains why Tim isn't nervous about a little smoke and fire—dragons are naturally immune to all but the very hottest flames. 

"I'm not," Jason admits. "Not a dragon, I mean. I really did grow up on this side of the Gate. Near as anyone can figure, I had a great-great grandparent who was a fire salamander. Probably snuck across before the Accords and did the do with a human. I don't have any other form than this one, but…" Jason trails off as he steps away from Tim and stokes the fire deep inside him.

"Oh, but that's beautiful," Tim gushes, reaching out to touch Jason's smoking, ruby-red skin. "I'm surprised your clothes can take it."

"Charms. And an asbestos weave," Jason admits. "My control is usually pretty good, but better safe than sorry."

"I guess you're one of those who has to maintain a shift for the sake of survival, then? Though for you it's the survival of others instead of your own."

"Well, this is technically my shift," Jason explains, dousing his internal fire and letting his skin return to its normal, entirely human shade. "I'm more human than anything else—heck, most of the time it feels like I don't even belong here, I'm so normal compared to everyone. The spontaneous combustion thing is honestly not at all typical for me."

"Yeah, I may have talked to HR about that," Tim admits, his already-gold scales spreading even further, across the bridge of his nose and creeping up into his eyebrows. "She said you tend to lose control when you feel strongly about something or someone?"

Oh god. "Oh god, why would to talk to _Stephanie_ about this? It's bad enough she won't stop her pointed looks, now she'll _never_ shut up," Jason groans.

"I honestly didn't mean to, it came up in connection to something else. I was asking her about the policy regarding intra-office dating, and—"

"Wait, why were you asking her about _that_?"

"Jason. You've gone out of your way to make me feel welcome and comfortable in a strange place from my very first day," Tim says, his face now all gold and blue to the point that the human skin of his shift is barely worth mentioning. "Others may not think you're very good at helping people adjust to life on this side of the Gate, but as far as I can tell, you're absolutely amazing at it. Not that I'd want to have you as my acclimatization counselor."

"Oh, such a great endorsement."

" _Because_ , if you were, it would be completely inappropriate for me to ask you if you want to get dinner with me sometime. Which, thankfully, the intra-office dating guidelines are totally okay with. If you are too?" Tim flashes him a hopeful smile, somehow continuing to look unfairly attractive even with his face all over scales and his teeth beginning to look a tad too sharp.

"I'd… like that," Jason says, a bit slowly because he's still having trouble processing that this is actually happening. "Dinner is good."

"Oh good," Tim says, sounding very relieved. "I wasn't sure if I'd figured out human dating practices correctly. Normally, I'd give you a freshly slaughtered beast, but Roy's gotten weirdly protective of his goat and the dire rats _bite_."

"Don't worry," Jason tells him, "after working here for so long, I know enough about other species' courting practices that's _very_ hard to offend me with a misstep."

"It's a date, then," Tim agrees. With a twist of his lips, he tugs on Jason's shirtfront, pulling him down and negating the scant difference in their heights. "Now, I'm fairly certain I got _this_ part of human courtship correct as well, but feel free to critique my performance," his mouth less than an inch from Jason's own.

"Mind your teeth, and we should be golden," Jason says before leaning in the rest of the way.

**Author's Note:**

> [I have a tumblr!](http://themandylion.tumblr.com/) Come visit if you want ridiculous AU headcanons, rants about the English language (and/or educational publishing), history fangirling, adorable baby bats, and veeeeery occasional fanart. Also, because I am an actual human being with opinions of my own, sometimes I post or reblog things that reflect those opinions. If you can't handle the idea of someone existing in the universe and possessing opinions which differ from your own, you should not click that link.


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